


I Don't Want to be Your Boyfriend (When You Need a Little Company)

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Series: Pynch Drabbles [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Bickering, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, but they totally were, in which adam didnt realize they were dating, its dumb and sweet, theyre in love!, theyre just bad at showing it at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: "I can't be your crutch," he started, his hands clamped around the edge of his desk, knuckles no doubt drained of color, jaw set. "I can't be your meantime activities so you don't do something stupid. We're not even- and this, whatever this is, where you just show up and kiss me whenever you want so you don't kill yourself behind the wheel, I can't be that anymore. I don't want to be just- I can't."





	I Don't Want to be Your Boyfriend (When You Need a Little Company)

**Author's Note:**

> title and inspo from boyfriend by coin 
> 
> its been a hot minute since ive written any pynch so forgive my rusty characterization lmao

It had started, Adam supposed, a few months ago. There Ronan had stood on the creaking doorstep of his apartment, head ducked low and an uneasy tension wavering off of him.

Adam had invited him in, because Adam always invited him in, and Ronan had sunk into the thin mattress on the far wall.

There had been a quiet, clipped explanation of a fight, and then of a need to feel an engine thrumming beneath one's feet, and then the decision to seek Adam out instead.

Adam hadn't quite known what to say to that. Were you even supposed to reply to something like that?

Come to think of it, he'd never found the answer to that question. Not for lack of trying, but because one or the other or both of them had moved in close, noses bumping and breathing hitching, before they'd connected lips.

Ronan's hand had brushed Adam's shoulder, and Adam's fingers had cuffed Ronan's ear, and they'd mapped the slope of one another's lips for far longer than either of them had ever cared to do so with another person.

Eventually they'd broken apart, but only at the lips. They'd each unknowingly shifted until they were sat against one another, until Ronan's head was on Adam's shoulder and they stared out across Adam's shitty apartment, not daring to speak.

And then it had become their way.

At first, it was all barely different from how they normally treated one another.

There was still a thick layer of teasing and snark and sharp words spread across every interaction they had, but it was somehow…padded. Padded by whispering, barely lingering touches, and warm, definitely lingering gazes.

There was Ronan, thrown against Adam's side when they'd puttered around Monmouth for all they had and ended up on the couch together. There were the days at the Barns, Ronan in his honest to god farmboy element, allowing Adam a peek inside that fragile part of his life. 

There were the nights when Ronan showed up on Adam's doorstep, or in his windowsill, keyed up because all he wanted to do was race, but somehow, someway, finding himself in Adam's little home.

Those nights were something wicked and unearthly, Adam thought. Ronan would stumble out of his boots and crawl into Adam's bed, never for anything more than to wrap himself around Adam's middle to doze almost-peacefully while Adam did homework.

And then there was, of course, the kissing. Which, for the record, Adam was by no means averse to.

Ronan was a terrible kisser at first.

In the three daydreams Adam had allotted himself, that wasn't how he thought that would go.

But it made sense.

Ronan wasn't heat, but an inferno. He wasn't hungry, but starving. And that came through in the way he held Adam like he knew he was going to leave, but desperately wanted him to stay. In the way he pressed and pressed, but never sat back and let himself be known.

But in that hour that they'd lip-locked on Adam's bed, he'd somehow started ironing those wrinkles out. And in all the subsequent hours in all the weeks thereafter, he thought he managed to make it count. 

He made sure to dig his hands into Ronan's already crumpled t-shirt, or slip a finger through his belt loop so to say, "I'm not leaving."

He pressed back, back, until Ronan eased off, until he became something akin to gentle, or as much as a Lynch boy could be.

And somewhere along the way, it became routine. Became comfortable. 

Adam looked forward to it, a little bit - against his better judgement, of course. Because Ronan was as fleeting as a cool breeze in the dead of summer, and surely, the winds would change soon.

It all culminated on one night like every other.

Adam was sat on his bed, the moon shining in through the thin curtain over his window. The window whose sill was currently occupied by muddied boots and a scowling, hunched Ronan Lynch.

"Who tried to race you tonight?" Adam asked in a dry tone, not even looking up from the Calculus in front of him. 

"No one," Ronan replied, dropping easily to his feet. He brushed three-quarters-heartedly at the bootprints he'd left behind, but Adam knew they wouldn't completely leave the old, chipped paint.

Adam hummed slightly in response, not quite thoughtful, but not quite disinterested either. 

"Kavinsky flip you off from some broken down parking lot? Did they not have your favorite chips at the store? Or did you just _miss_ me," he rattled back, tapping his pencil in a way that even annoyed him. His skin was hot, and his fingers were tense, and he could feel Ronan's eyes on him. The apartment was small, Adam knew that fact rather intimately, but with the way he could hear Ronan just behind him, shifting restlessly from foot to foot, it felt infinitesimally small. Like on of the boxes he lugged around at the auto shop full of bent and broken spare parts.

"Maybe I did, Parrish," Ronan replied, and Adam could hear the flex of his fingers as it sent rippling pops through the taught joints in his rough hands.

Adam tried not to think too hard about Ronan's hands.

Instead, he snorted at Ronan's obvious jab and said, "Cute, but some of us have a Calc test to study for."

"What, you think I didn't?"

"I know you didn't."

Ronan huffed. "Well, you don't have to be so smug about it."

Adam turned slightly in his chair, bracing his forearm against the back of it to hold him in place. "You said you liked it when I was smug, I'm just giving the people what they want."

"Christ, Adam-" Ronan mumbled, taking the two quick steps it took for them to be just shy of too close. Adam knew that tick in Ronan's jaw, knew that flex in his forearms, but he didn't know that look in his eyes. It wasn't one that inspired any sort of fear, it was honestly rather soft. Or, about as soft as possible, Adam thought. He hadn't even registered that Ronan had called him Adam until seconds later.

Adam rarely ever let himself be caught off guard, but Ronan had snuck up on him in more ways than one. 

Calculus be damned, Adam pushed to his feet. "What?" he asked in something above a whisper, but below his normal cadence. Not quite a challenge, but still something like permission.

Which meant that Ronan did what Ronan did best, and reached for him instead of speaking. Not that Adam was surprised, the room was so filled with want that it was fucking stifling.

The sensation of warm hands on his cheek and the side of his neck was the first thing Adam felt. Normally, they predated lips on lips by mere milliseconds, but these- the moments stretched on, a kind of tenderness in the way that Ronan cradled him before bringing him in with a gentle tug that Adam fell into.

There was always a moment, after their mouths met, before anything truly got underway, that Adam was filled with this- guilt. That was the only name he could find for it, and god knows he'd tried. But he could never put his finger on it, could never make himself face it head on long enough, to find anything else. And so, it was just a sliver of guilt that usually fell away when the backs of Ronan's knees hit the edge of his bed.

Because why, he leveraged with himself, have a crises when Ronan fucking Lynch was holding him like that- _kissing_ him like that. Kissing him like he didn't want him to be anyone else. Kissing him like he mattered. It was stupid, considering that he knew how Ronan was, but he let himself believe it for these moments. Let himself believe that this, that he, meant something more to Ronan.

But tonight, no matter how warm Ronan's mouth was, not matter how nice it felt when his hand snaked under the hem of Adam's shirt to hold his side, no matter how much Adam wanted him, he couldn't do it. Could never do it again.

And maybe it had been bubbling just beneath the surface all this time, maybe Adam had just missed it, or ignored it as he did most unsavory emotional spikes he had, but he couldn't ignore how high the want and the comfort and the familiarity rose in his chest. He couldn't ignore how he leaned into Ronan's touch without even thinking about it, nor could he ignore the way that his hands and his mouth and his everything knew Ronan.

He couldn't ignore that he wanted this to be real more than he'd ever wanted anything to be real in his life. Glendower didn't even come close. Though they were similar- Adam felt like maybe he would always be chasing some untouchable king.

He pulled back, breathing hard as he looked down at Ronan's confused face.

"Adam?"

And god, his heart seized like it was in a vicegrip at that. Because Ronan's eyes were unguarded, his mouth red, and his fingers were dug comfortably, groundingly, into the skin at his hip.

And he looked almost scared.

"I can't do this," Adam huffed, his breath not catching up with him. Oh- he couldn't breathe. "Ronan, I can't do this anymore."

Immediately, Ronan pulled his hands back. Not like Adam was burning him, but like he'd been burning Adam. They were locked in a stalemate, Adam still awkwardly straddling him, essentially pinned by his bent legs on his either side, unable to get up until Adam did.

And oh, did Adam get up. He scurried off of him and over to the other side of his apartment, his chest tight with recognition and realization and a blind hatred for himself for letting it go this far unchecked. Letting the want turn into need turn into l- no. Don't name it, he told himself, because then it won't ever leave.

Ronan tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it back to meet the waistband of his jeans as he stood to face Adam, hurt and confusion starting to harden his face once more.

Adam wanted to explain, wanted to- not tell him, never tell him, but he wanted to give him some sort of something, which was probably why words started to slowly creep from his mouth, each lacquered in that buttery accent Ronan had once upon a time admitted to liking - loving - in between fervent kisses.

"I can't be your crutch," he started, his hands clamped around the edge of his desk, knuckles no doubt drained of color, jaw set. "I can't be your meantime activities so you don't do something stupid. We're not even- and this, whatever this is, where you just show up and kiss me whenever you want so you don't kill yourself behind the wheel, I can't be that anymore. I don't want to be just- I can't."

Ronan frowned, which wasn't out of the ordinary because Ronan always frowned, but there was something so acutely _hurt_ about the expression that Adam almost did a double take.

"Kind of a shitty way to break up with someone, Parrish," he finally stated, his arms crossed over his chest, chin neither dipped nor raised.

"I'm not in the mood for your fucking jokes, Lynch," Adam snapped, fingers tightening around the desk even more. He couldn't fucking _breathe_.

Ronan cocked his head to the side slightly, like a baby bird if it had, you know, normally murderous eyes that now looked like a confused, albeit asshole-ish, puppy.

"I'm not kidding."

Adam wasn't really a fan of reflection. Reflection led to resurfacing led to looking at things he wanted to keep locked behind doors and bolted shut with padlocks and nailed over with 2x4s just to make sure. 

But for a second, he reflected. Thought back, he decided to call it. Adam Parrish was a good- a great thinker. So he thought. Just, backwards.

He thought about Ronan, always watching, Ronan, always there. He thought about their time spent together - about how it was truly together, how it was often without Gansey or Blue or Noah and how he'd never minded, loved it more that way even. He thought about days and nights at the Barns, about how they joked and laughed without ever expectation of more. Just gave these soft looks to one another when they thought the other was looking and then went back to bickering because it was safe and what they knew.

God, Ronan had cooked him _dinner_. More than once! He'd used his mother's recipes, had said it was for Opal's benefit when Adam tried to protest.

"Jesus Christ," Adam mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes against Ronan. They had been dating for months, and Adam had thought-

"Don't think they'd take kindly to that kind of exclamation in a church, Parrish."

"We're above the church," Adam replied without thinking, tilting his head back. He felt the tan skin stretch across his throat, against his bobbing Adam's Apple as he swallowed to try to clear his dry throat. "Do you think they'd prefer fuck?"

"I think their thing is the opposite of fuck, but my eighteen years of observance could be a little off."

Adam wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to- well mostly he wanted to pull Ronan back in and get back to what they were doing, wanted to fall asleep with his fingers tangled in his shirt and his nose pressed against his collarbone, knowing he'd have to wake up in a few measly hours but simply not caring.

"So, you just weren't going to tell me."

Ronan barked a laugh, an honest to God laugh, his fingers curling around his sides where Adam's had been not even ten minutes before. 

"You're supposed to be the smart one, Parrish."

How badly he wanted to be Adam again.

"Well lay it out for me like I'm not."

He could hear those stupid boots that he hadn't even bothered to kick off moving across the creaking floorboards, could feel the warmth he radiated getting closer. He didn't brace for impact, instead cracked one eye open and then the other to watch him approach.

"You have a specific side of the bed, of _my_ bed," Ronan told him point blank, hands falling from his sides, one reaching for the side of Adam's face instead. He wanted to, wished he could, say that he didn't lean in to the lines of Ronan's fingers, didn't look at him through the curve of his eyelashes, but lying in a church on top of it all seemed wrong. "Right side. Back to the wall. One pillow, never more, unless it's me." He cracked the edge of a smirking smile and lressed his thumb a little deeper into Adam's cheek as if he could soak up the blush spreading there. "You snore, too. Super loud, it's detrimental to my sleep cycle."

Adam scoffed involuntarily, finally letting his own half smile slope up his lips. "No, I don't."

"You do," he replied, not insistent, but still sure. 

"I think you watching me sleep is a much worse affliction."

"Not much else to do when you're cutting down the whole forest next to me."

Adam rolled his eyes, leaning deeper into Ronan's hand. They stood like that for a moment before Adam asked with an odd sort of seriousness, "So you just weren't going to tell me?"

"You would've figured it out eventually."

"Opal would've had to tell me."

Ronan snorted at the mental image, leaning farther into Adam's space. Not crowding, but undoubtedly close. "You could always pay closer attention," he suggested, his voice more a rumble in his chest than a sound for Adam's hearing ear. 

"I thought I was the ditz now," Adam replied through a huffy laugh, fluttering his long eyelashes in an over-exaggerated way.

Ronan tugged gently at a soft lock of gold hair and just shook his head. "You couldn't if you fucking tried, Adam."

Adam smiled wholly, not a beam, but a shot, and finally pulled Ronan back into him. The small of his back dug into his desk, but his hands ghosted over Ronan's shirt exactly where they had been earlier, and Ronan's hand was braced against the back of his neck, and he felt- 

"Just to be clear-" Ronan said, grinning into the swath of goosebump covered skin where Adam's neck met his shoulder. 

"Don't finish that sentence," Adam mumbled, pulling their lips back together to shut him up. There was no guilt to be found.

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr @ wlwshehulk!


End file.
